


Breaking Point

by Enchantedtalisman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hex Master Harry Potter, M/M, Magically Proficient Harry Potter, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27421702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantedtalisman/pseuds/Enchantedtalisman
Summary: Studying was easier than listening to Umbridge.Studying was easier than seeing Dumbledore’s eyes flick away from him.From dealing with the student body once again calling him crazy.From the reminder thatno one listened.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Fred Weasley/George Weasley
Comments: 15
Kudos: 390
Collections: Waiting for updates





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I keep promising myself I'll stop posting wips but also I just really enjoy the things I write so why not. I can't promise I'll finish any of these, so if that turns you off then I reccommend not commenting asking for more or continuing onwards.
> 
> Anyway,
> 
> Enjoy~

Studying was easier than listening to Umbridge.

Studying was easier than seeing Dumbledore’s eyes flick away from him.

From dealing with the student body once again calling him crazy.

From the reminder that _no one listened_.

Harry studied anything he could get his hands on, because he was quite done. If the school, the teachers, and the Ministry wouldn’t listen, then he wouldn’t be restrained. His spell reptoire had never been subtle, hadn’t ever been large either. He felt equal parts foolish and guilty about that.

His potions were a hot mess which he diligently worked on fixing.

There were no other skills that Harry had when it came to more varied magical abilities.

“It’s good that you’re studying.” Hermione said, she had been saying that a lot. She had barely held her tongue just like Harry did that first day in Umbridge’s class.

Harry flicked a glance at her and smiled fondly. Even if he was still a little bitter at Ron and Hermione not telling him anything during the summer they were still his psuedo-family. “Have to learn somehow,” He said and got a snort from her.

First Harry learned defense, notice me not charms, disillusionment, shields, and minor wards that didn’t need five years to learn (though they weren’t as good as the ones that needed multiple branches of magic to make).

That led to an abandoned classroom where he could hole up and practice spells – hexes, and curses that Harry felt uncomfortable but determined to learn. If the magical world wouldn’t play fair, neither would Harry.

Occlumency came next, because Harry was  _quite_ tired of the dreams and sharp stabbing pain and the only books that indicated something like that at all were healing spells for evil curses (something he had to read up on but had no time to learn three years worth of theory to cast properly), and occlumency.

Then there was potion making.

A month flew by that way. Where Harry kept his eyes on studying and learning. He dropped Divination almost a week into classes realizing just how wasteful of a time it was.

“Would you like to take another elective Mr. Potter?” Professor McGongall asked, which was rather kind of her.

But Harry didn’t know if he  _could_ learn enough Ancient Runes fast enough to get to a fifth year education. Even his minor studying during the TriWizard Tournament had been very specific. No, better self study for any runic-magic he decided to fall back onto. “No thank you, Professor,” He said with a neutral expression. He wasn’t sure if he could give her a smile. Clearly her hands were tied if Dumbledore did nothing as Headmaster, but he didn’t think she had tried arguing the matter well enough.

The first mishap for Umbridge happened in the second week of October. On her seat, behind her class desk, was a potion that would slowly enter her body through her clothing.

It had taken quite a bit of tinkering for Harry to make the potion adapt in a way that only the observant would notice a hint of wetness—the potion spreading across cloth and skin too quickly to ‘sit’ and stay damp.

Not much happened during class, but Harry didn’t expect it too. There were hours yet before the full force of the  _Tongue of Liars_ potion took effect.

Unlike truth potions, lying potions were a lot easier to make—probably because they didn’t force the individual to tell the truth. Harry didn’t think even with his self study that he could make even a minor truth serum right now at his skill level.

But the Tongue of Liars? Even a second year could make that one, and while Harry’s skills weren’t  _terrible_ , they still needed refinement. He had even practiced enough that he was sure this batch of potion vials were his most potent.

A twist of Harry’s wand has the accompanying hex  _Hex of Temptation_ , to hit Umbridge right as she’s walking out of the classroom.

Their group of Gryffindors was thankfully too far away for Umbridge to accuse them of the spell hit.

Hermione jostled Harry, “You going back to study?” She hadn’t taken long to realize that Harry had his own ‘study room’ as it were. Any other transgression and Harry was sure she would have disapproved, but there were quite a few empty rooms and he supposed she saw it as using empty space.

“Yeah, wanna join?” Harry had a fondness for hexes by now, and Hermione didn’t quite _approve_ but she also seemed to understand that it would keep him safe; or maybe she didn’t disapprove, after all Voldemort was alive. He settled on ignoring Hermione’s possible thoughts on the matter for now.

“Yes!” Hermione’s excitement was contagious and if Ron’s longsuffering sigh was any indication he followed more out of friendship then any desire to learn.

They slipped out of the stream of classmates and Harry led them to his somewhat sanctuary. A few twists of his wand and the charms and wards around the door bent just enough so the three could walk in.

Another few hours of studying, and potion making went by and Harry wondered belatedly if a future like this could exist with Hermione and Ron one day.

It was certainly a nice thought.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t like a simple knockback charm, and stunning spell,” Hermione muttered disgruntled.

“Because I doubt that combination would work on any war trained wixen,” Harry replied dryly. Not that he hadn’t learned both of those spells for school yard bullies, namely Malfoy, but he knew that any Death Eater and especially Voldemort, wouldn’t fall for that. At all.

“He has a point ‘Mione,” Even Ron had started learning a few spells; though unfortunately (in Harry’s opinion) he refused to study the same hexes that Harry was reading up on. “Death Eaters aren’t exactly going to bend over backwards and let us stun them, and a shield spell can block both of those; we would be bloody fucked--”

“Language,” Hermione snapped.

They reached the Great Hall just in that moment.

It was there that Harry got to see the fruits of his labor.

Umbridge was screeching, “Voldemort is not real! Whoever cast this foul magic will be punished! I will not go back on my words!” Her voice grew higher and higher with pain.

Harry felt little sympathy when he saw the pustules across the woman’s hands and throat. The  _Tongue of Liars_ suited the punishment to the recipient, and he was admittedly disappointed that it was just a skin condition.

“Harry,” Hermione murmured, and she really was too clever by far, “Impressive.”

_That_ was a surprise. Harry blinked up at her. He had settled in a chair far enough away from the gawping, and standing, students so he could eat in some semblance of peace.

Hermione flushed and started piling mashed potatoes on her and Harry’s plates, “She’s a foul woman,” Was what she finally said before digging into her meal.

Harry grinned and he barely caught the interested looks Fred and George were giving him; he wasn’t sure if they had heard Hermione or just suspected him, either way it made his belly flip in an awkwardly familiar way.

Madam Pomfrey had Umbridge up and out after two days.

Harry was pretty upset that it had only taken  _two days_ for his potion and spellwork to be undone, but then again he wasn’t as advanced as a Medi-witch. Even if he had Umbridge’s awful tongue on his side.

More reading was needed. If he wanted to do spellwork or potions that kept Umbridge firmly in the Hospital Wing, or curbing her tongue (he doubted the latter would ever happen) he needed to learn more.

Thankfully, after hearing Ron complain about reading for the  _fifth hundredth time_ , Hermione had come up with two  solutions.

One a whispering spell allowed Harry to listen to any book he cast it on, as long as he wasn’t too far from the book (fifty meters seemed the limit).

Second was a Diligent Brew, a potion made about two hundred years ago. It had minor addictive properties which was probably why it wasn’t taught until seventh year, but Hermione, a good book, and the whispering spell on repeat had the three of them working on making it and succeeding only a day after Umbridge was out.

The first drink, Harry honestly wished he had had it his first year. Suddenly things made so much more sense. And he had an assortment of ideas on old spells written down while he listened with full focus to another book  _Making an Enemy Suffer._

October was hardly a footnote in Fifth Year. Harry still was quite mad, but it was easier for the moment to focus on learning. He consumed books thanks to the potion (though Hermione made a timetable so they wouldn’t get too addicted to it), spell and brewing practice became much easier with such razor sharp focus, and he had crossed off, and marked down, more ideas than he thought he ever had in the last four years of schooling.

It was only seeing Ginny’s hand covered in scabbed lines that pulled the trio out of their own little world.

“We want in.” Fred and George said to Harry.

Harry wasn’t sure what gave him away. Perhaps it was his magic, thrumming deep and heavy. Ever since he had started practicing so thoroughly it felt like he had a better connection and that his magic was starting to conform to being swift, painful and stunning like the hexes he had learned. “It’s going to be _subtle_ ,” He wasn’t sure if the twins knew the word. Sure they didn’t get caught as much as they did when pranking, but their pranks tended to be signaturely _theirs_.

“We won’t be caught,” George looked serious. It made him rather handsome.

(Not that Harry was thinking about how handsome the two were. Or that they were _twins_.)

“Mom would be _furious_ if we let Ginny keep getting hurt,” Fred added. As if he didn’t look like the embodiment of rage right about now.

“I have a few ideas.” Harry admitted.

Ron was already waiting for Harry at their little nook. It was far enough away from most that people didn’t really pay attention when the trio went inside of it. “They’re not going to make a mess of it are they?” Ron asked Harry with a frown at his brothers.

The lack of _Ron we’re hurt you would say that_ from either of them was disconcerting.

“They said they understood.” Harry had had to learn a new ward that Hermione added into the schema, which had taken a full week of frustration because he didn’t know as much Ancient Runes as she did. It took a dedicated bit of power and a twist of magic to open the runes blocking the door.

“So, what’s the plan?” Fred asked.

“I have a few, actually.” Harry admitted. He was saving some of them, preferably when there was more time between his last attempt. He didn’t want people to catch him in the act. But if _Ginny_ was asking Hermione for a way to heal her hand, then there had to be more people being hurt. The fact that none of the teachers, and specifically _Dumbledore_ , were doing nothing left a horrid taste in Harry’s mouth.

A flick of Harry’s wand had the cabinet he had found, and stickied onto a wall not too near, but near enough, to his little potions lab, opened to show an assortment of potions and tiny objects-- some were buttons, others fake homework assignments, a few necklaces and rings.

“Blimey, Harry, it’s like you were going to war,” Ron said with a healthy amount of fear.

A grim smile bloomed on Harry’s face, he admitted at least, to himself, that these devices and potions weren’t _just_ for Umbridge. He had no idea what would happen in the future but he planned to be prepped as best he could.

“Some of these aren’t going easy,” George said, he had come up to Harry, and Harry was a little distracted by the heat of his body, warm and the smell of him—a little like ginger and cinnamon.

“Can’t go easy on Death Eaters,” Harry said dryly.

“Uhuh, and that’s all you’re gonna use them for, Har?” Fred asked with an amused tilt to his lips.

“Oh, look at this beauty,” George took one of the potion vials with care, it was a dabbled green and blue. “What’s it do?”

The Vial was well, new. Harry’s first, or second if he counted spellcrafting and potion crafting the same, foray into creation.

“Didn’t you work on that for the last three weeks?” Ron perked up. He and Hermione had been trying to get Harry to tell them what it was for a while now.

It was probably a good thing Hermione was still in her Arithmancy class or she would be dogging Harry endlessly.

“Yes, it’s a new potion.” Harry was rather, okay, _very_ proud of himself. It had taken a lot of prep work and a _lot_ less sleep then he was used too even with the Dursleys. But he had made it.

“What’s it _do_?” Fred leaned forward, the visible excitement on his face made him look boyishly cute.

Harry really needed to stop finding Ron’s male family members attractive, first Bill, then Charlie, and now the twins. Shaking his head he looked at his well, second pride and joy (the first being the hex he had created), “It causes the person who drinks it to feel every inflicted wrong they have done to others onto themselves.” He knew that the potion wouldn’t be written in a publishable book. He didn’t want people pranking eachother with something like this. Even if it was restricted to advanced study he wasn’t sure if he could trust _this_ Wixen world to behave with it. After all they had the Dementors and instead of either destroying their ability to suck souls out of people, or destroying the creatures, they had turned them into unstable prison guards.

“Hell.” Ron whispered. He looked equal parts impressed and frightened.

“Marry me,” George said. His free hand took Harry’s and his eyes were intense.

Harry wasn’t actually sure if the other teen was joking or not.

“You have to marry me too,” Fred said and how the hell he got onto Harry’s other side, Harry had no idea.

“I’m a bit too young for marriage,” Keeping his cool when part of him was swooning was rather hard. Who knew the universe would come to bite him in the ass for second year where he gave Hermione a hard time about Lockhart, in the form of mentally swooning over the twins.

Fred waved a hand in the air, “Then we’ll just have to woo you while we wait, right George?”

“I’m not sure when we decided to make it a double wedding but alright,” George’s tone betrayed his amusement.

Ron glared at the twins and then looked at Harry’s flushed face.

There were no need for words, Harry _knew_ his best friend was going to give him hell for this.

“How are you going to get it into her drink or food?” Hermione didn’t sound upset. Which was a relief, and a surprise. She looked at Ron and Harry and sighed at whatever expression she saw on their faces, “She used an _Evil Object_ ; class six on magically banned objects out of ten classes, meaning it’s six away from being the death penalty on the International Wixen Association’s laws on _Evil Magics_. Even if she fled out of country she would be at least imprisoned if not have her wand snapped.” She frowned, “And if _Ginny_ of all people came to me for help, who knows how many others she’s used that quill on.” She grimaced and shivered, “It’s not right, so, how are you going to get it into her food or drink?”

“I admit I’m leaning on my new hex.” Harry scratched his nose and smiled at Hermione’s surprised delight and Ron’s gawping.

“You made two things? We’re fifth years!” Ron groaned, “I’m going to have to catch up if I don’t want the Twins to make even more of a fuss. You know they asked him to marry them? And the besotted ass didn’t even say no.”

At those words Hermione laughed uproariously.

Harry on the other hand felt a hot flush cross his cheeks.

“Very funny, Ron. Your brothers are just very pretty.” Harry said, it was sweet revenge to see Ron’s face grow red and him to start sputtering.

When they finally calmed down Harry explained, “The Hex is simple, it causes the person to ignore oddities. Like a pinpoint notice me not charm. But it’s a hex because it’s verging on compulsion curses.” Harry had read  _a lot_ on spell categorizing and what made hexes different from curses (earlier in Britian’s history, admittedly it had been more based on  anything a Witch created or used;  curses or offensive spells being put under hexes) and he knew that his hex was in the grey area between curse and hex. But most of the two groups really were similar. Unlike Curses though, Hexes tended to take time to build up their power, and didn’t necessarily require any emotional input on the users side. Hexes were  _neutral_ emotion magic. They weren’t like the Patronus that required good emotions or the Stomach  Expelling Curse that required a vengeful surge.

Hermione nodded, “That would work, I suppose but you would have to either magic the potion into her drink while having a drink with her or somehow do it in the Great Hall.”

It didn’t take much for Harry to see what Hermione meant. The easiest method, and less likely to be caught, would to somehow have tea with Umbridge. He grimaced at the thought.

“If you want Harry I can do it. I’m not _great_ at Hexes,” Ron grinned abashed, he was after all much better at offensive elemental spells, not a surprise really they required quick bursts of action and Ron’s natural tendency to aggravate his wand movements certainly helped, “But I could learn it.”

“You’d be caught even with the hex,” Hermione said dryly, “You’re too awkward.” She added at Ron’s annoyed look, “You wouldn’t be able to hold it together until she drank enough of the potion for it to work. Then she would be too on-guard to get dosed again.”

Harry had to agree, even if silently. “ I’ll do it. Sucking up can’t be that bad. Especially for a good cause.” The bitter taste in his mouth was still there though. But he couldn’t let this stand. And hell if he was lucky maybe it would make Dumbledore and the Ministry open their eyes.

Harry doubted it though.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been sitting on this for a while because I wanted to make it longer but decided that was silly.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Also fair warning for some mild gore.

“Why, Mr. Potter, whatever could you need with me,” Umbridge’s voice was utterly vile.

Harry was sure it was meant to be a simpering tone, but he could hardly stand it. He took a deep breath, though, and let the mist of his occulmency consume his mind. In the Mist nothing could touch his mind (especially Voldemort’s painful anger or his thoughts), “I just wanted to thank you for your amazing work.” It was a lie, but since he had been nothing but a quiet student throughout the year, he doubted Umbridge could see the full truth of that lie.

Umbridge hemmed and hawwed. She turned away to lead Harry to the interior of her office.

A grimace at the decor was all Harry gave himself before he flicked his wand in a careful circle; it had to be as smooth and perfect as he could make it. A whispered _Nihil_ _Videtur_ , had the hex flung into Umbridge’s back.

Startled Umbridge turned before frowning at the side of Harry’s face.

Harry tilted his head, “Something wrong Professor?”

“N...no, nothing.” Umbridge shook her head and then waved her wand. For someone who was a terrible defense teacher it was clear she had some magical talent. Two arm chairs started moving before they settled in front of a small table where a tea set carefully landed on said table.

“Mind if I pour us some tea, Professor?” Harry asked demurely. It was easy after years of dealing with the Dursleys.

“A respectful idea, Mr. Potter.” Umbridge was clearly looking for something in her desk, Harry had no idea what it was though.

With quick but sure movements Harry had the dried potion (Fred and George’s idea, apparently a potion dried up would take much longer to  gain a n effect and that way no one could blame  _Harry_ because it  would possibly take a week  for the potion t o take full effect) dutifully covering the bottom of the tea cup. A spoon full of sugar, and then tea covered it quite nicely. He made his own cuppa but didn’t bother with sugar or milk, he refused to drink or eat anything of Umbridge’s.

“Now, here are your Essays. I admit I’m a little disappointed in them. You only did the minimum on all of them.” Umbridge was speaking a lot more calmly then normal.

Was it the hex? Harry  _had_ made it so things would seem normal, but perhaps normal to Umbridge meant an entirely different thing to what Harry had intended. After all hexes didn’t work like compulsions. There was no influence from Harry, just the spell working so that Umbridge didn’t notice anything too obvious.

Thankfully that was the only oddity. While Umbridge pointed out all the flaws in Harry’s Essays (and every single one seemed to have at least three; the biggest being that they were  _all too short_ , even though they were the exact length requirement Umbridge had asked for) and sipped her tea, and Harry listened while debating if only half drunken tea would be enough to make the potion work because this was absolute torture.

_Finally_ , the tea was drunk, another cuppa just incase, and Harry was able to flee. He would  _never_ do that again, subtle or not.

Hermione was better at potions then either Ron or Harry. But with Fred and George’s help? The new trio were  _really good_ at potions.

“Scary innit?” Ron muttered to Harry.

Harry nodded, too stunned to look away. His book about  intermediate warding had fallen closed in his lap.

Already the three had finished at least two new potion alternatives. The Wiggenweld potion didn’t usually have enough potency to heal evil magics after effects but that hadn’t stopped Fred, George, and Hermione from making a new version of it. The other potion was a version of Pepper Up that would instead of re-energizing and curing a mild cold, help with any lingering curse or evil magic left in a persons system.

They weren’t done yet though, they apparently planned to make at least three dozen of each potion before they called it.

Harry admitted it couldn’t hurt, who knew how many people Umbridge had used that quill on, and it was better having extra than too little.  He shook his head, shivering at the excited whispers between the three, before returning to his book. He needed to get better at warding. Dursleys were not a healthy option, and if Voldemort continued to confront him, Harry was  _not_ spending his summers with his least favorite people.

W hich also brought up the fact that while Harry was learning, and as much and as fast as he could, he didn’t know any healing spells. Even the simple ones that didn’t need  _years_ of experience to learn.

Adding it the pile of things to learn was probably for the best.

Books on warding, healing, wandless theory, magical foci, more hex books (for the most part Harry had been studying whatever book he could find), and finally a book on potion theory. There never seemed enough time to learn. Especially with essays and assigned reading. Harry’s head ached whenever he didn’t have the  _Diligent_ potion inside his system but he refused to get addicted; he had seen a few alcoholic coworkers of Vernon’s and didn’t want that for himself.

By the end of the week Harry’s brain was so full of theory, wand movements, incantations, and potion ingredients that he didn’t really notice their class grow quiet. It was after all the last class of the week so it was semi-expected for people to be drained of energy.

“What? Read your assigned chapter!” Umbridge snapped.

Harry blinked up at her and refrained from gasping.

There was a few marks on her face. Nothing serious, but the scars were telling since they hadn’t been there before this week. Her hands also gleamed in the light but Harry didn’t think it was blood—not yet, but he was sure it would eventually turn into it.

The rest of class was quiet, most everyone peaking at Umbridge but nothing came of the looks; nothing else changed about her.

Harry swallowed down his burning justified pleasure and focused on listening to the book on warding again; he just didn’t quite understand chapter three and had been rehashing this one book because wards were going to be a fantastic way to get the hell out of the Dursley’s house without Voldemort getting to him.

It took a lot longer than any of the group realized for the potion to take effect. November third had a scream filling the hallways of Hogwarts.

Harry barely had any time to peak out of the Transfiguration classroom with all the rest and see a mass of—something, it was hard to tell if it was human, running through the halls and up the stairs.

Eventually, the rumors that seemed most likely were that a very dangerous and awful magical accident had occurred to one Professor Umbridge. Not a single student seemed upset by the matter.

Fred and George later reported, having borrowed Harry’s invisibility cloak, that it was, “Bloody horrifying,”

George nodded his head and looked a little green, “I couldn’t tell where her mouth was until she started speaking. I guess she’s done so many horrible things the potion overloaded.”

Harry _definitely_ wrote that bit down. He was pretty sure he would have to modify they potion so someone didn’t realize it was the same thing happening to others. He already had plans to use it on Fudge and Voldemort’s Death Eaters (he had been _fairly_ tempted to use it on Snape, but Hermione and Ron had advised against it). He also felt a tiny bit disgusted, even if he wanted her to suffer, he felt like turning her into a blob was a little on the evil side of things. He definitely didn’t want to tamper with evil magics.

This time at least Umbridge was out of commission for a long time.

Defense became a self study session for two out of four of their classes while another teacher would appear for the other two to help the students with spells; a ghost, and two portraits were in place just incase of any rule breaking.

Harry didn’t think it was the best solution but he hardly paid attention in the class anyway. His mind was on other matters.

Professor Bins, Snape, and most of their Defense Teachers were horrid, and Harry had suddenly realized how much he could learn, and how enjoyable it was. Oh, he would never be a vicarious reader like Hermione, but _learning_ , and gaining a control on his magic, and being _one_ with his magic was seriously addicting.

Perhaps he should wait, after all he had no idea what Umbridge’s fate would cause in the future, or if she would even survive (he didn’t feel all that bad about it, torturing children under her authority was an awful awful thing to do), but Harry had finally settled in himself. Maybe it was the Occlumency, or the knowledge he was slowly accumulating, or how the Wixen world was treating him. No matter what it was, Harry was determined to clear out the riffraff of the world.

Hogwarts just, sensibly, seemed the best place to start.

Exorcisms, unfortunately, were not part of the family of Hex magics. There was one, a very old spell that Harry wasn’t sure he could master, that would eventually diminish an area of ghostly magic but it seemed to be more use on someone _living_ who the wielder suspected would become a ghost. Not very useful on a ghost, even if Harry could tweak it to work on someone already dead.

“Going to have to learn a whole new branch of magic, mate,” Ron said without sympathy. But than, he didn’t really want to lose Binns, and he already seemed exhausted with keeping up with Hermione and Harry.

Harry sighed and went back to the shelves of the library.

“Harry,” George was sitting far too close for comfort.

Or rather, he was sitting close enough that Harry _should_ have felt uncomfortable. Instead there was those butterflies in his stomach again. He barely kept the blush down, “George,” Then a glance to his left he bit back a smile, “Fred.” The warmth on either side now was _nice_ but Harry had two more books to go through before he gave up the exorcism idea for the day and focused on the potions Essay (he was starting to realize the better he got at potions theory the more infuriated Snape became and it was the sweetest revenge).

“We noticed you were trying to get rid of a ghost.” Fred said with a cheerful grin.

“Right…” Harry trailed off with raised brows.

“But we know hexing them isn’t going to help,” George continued an arm wrapping around Harry’s shoulders.

Refusing to blush was easier than _actually_ stopping it from happening. “I know that.” Harry muttered.

“Well, you’re in luck. Bill’s pretty good about giving us some spell work help.” Fred’s own arm settled just on top of his brother’s.

“Yep,” George nodded, “He has a soft spot for us. Says we’re right after his own heart.”

The idea of _Bill Weasley_ , _Headboy_ and all around _Perfect First Son_ , Bill Weasley being a prankster was baffling, but the twins didn’t let him digest that.

“The spells yours,” Fred added.

A creeping feeling ran up Harry’s spine and he squinted at both of them, which was hard to do when they were on either side of him, “What do you want for it?”

The twins grinned at eachother and then at Harry, “A date.”

“A date?” Ron looked horrified.

Hermione was mostly amused and rather long suffering from the way she rubbed her face for a few long minutes.

Keeping the blush down was impossible and Harry shrugged, “They’re cute. And Hermione do you really want to fail your N.E.W.T.S in History just because of Binns?” Low blow, the three all knew it.

But, obligingly, Hermione took the bait, “Fine, but I want to see the spell first. We don’t need to get rid of every ghost that enters that corridor, room, or the entire portion of Hogwarts.” She grimaced.

Which was fair, Harry could already tell Hermione was _cringing_ at the thought of the other ghosts and their knowledge of things lost past being lost.

“Agreed, now to get ready for my date.” Harry grinned at Ron’s expression becoming fixed. Maybe it was a _little_ mean to keep pointing out how attractive his brothers were. But also funny.

From Hermione’s exasperated look, she thought so too.


End file.
